Tsuru no Hitokoe
by Phi-chama
Summary: The epic feudal tale of a soldier and his prostitute. [AU] [Daiken]
1. Intro and Notes

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---///BACKGROUND INFORMATION & NOTES FOR "TSURU NO HITOKOE"///---  
  
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WARNINGS: Anachronistic dialogue and sporadic use of cultural   
  
honorifics. Violence, death, cussing, politics, and other things   
  
associated with war. Supernatural happenings. Cross-dressing and   
  
homosexual and heterosexual relationships.  
  
PAIRINGS: Daisuke/Ken, Taichi/Sora, Taichi/Yamato, Yamato/OFC,  
  
Takeru/Hikari, Takeru/Iori, Miyako/OMC, Miyako/Ken, Mimi/OMC,   
  
Jyou/Mimi, Ryo/Ken, Osamu/OFC. [Possibly more that will be decided   
  
upon as the story progresses.]  
  
I began this story based on the random idea of putting Ken in  
  
a dress.... And then it mutated. Severely.  
  
Obviously, this project required a lot of research because I'm  
  
the type of person that hates historical inaccuracy. (Being a  
  
History major and all. ^__^ Although I must admit that my  
  
concentration is Central/Eastern Europe and the U.S., not Japan.)  
  
Trying to find a time period where everything that I wanted was  
  
happening was rather difficult -- thus I had to sacrifice some  
  
realism for the sake of plot.  
  
I had originally planned on making one overarching info file,  
  
but I realized that I couldn't possibly include everything at the  
  
outset and thus decided to explain such details at the end of  
  
each chapter.  
  
If you have any questions, comments, or corrections, feel free  
  
to e-mail me at juki@aurabuster.net or katkle@postmark.net.  
  
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BRIEF BACKGROUND  
  
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"Tsuru no Hitokoe" ("Cry of the Crane") takes place directly   
  
after the Onin War of 1467-1477 during the Muromachi (a.k.a.   
  
Ashikaga) Period, at the beginning of the Sengoku era. The power  
  
and influence of the royal governmental infrastructure severely  
  
deteriorated, and the country collapsed into civil war for  
  
decades.  
  
The local lords grew more powerful and many grew more   
  
ambitious, and from this I have developed the setting of this  
  
story. Any other historical/political notes I add here may  
  
potentially give away future plot, and so I will clarify things  
  
in the chapters in which they come up.  
  
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REFERENCES  
  
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Asakawa, Kwan-ichi. (1939) A History of Nations: Japan.  
  
Hane, Mikiso. (1972) Japan: A Historical Survey.  
  
Henshall, Kenneth G. (1999) A History of Japan: From Stone Age to  
  
Superpower.  
  
Iwasaka, Michiko and Barre Toelken. Ghosts and the Japanese:  
  
Culutral Experience in Japanese Death Legends. Logan, UT:  
  
Utah State University Press, 1994.  
  
"Japanese Society." Accessed January 2, 2003.  
  
http://hammer.prohosting.com/~stryder/soc.html  
  
Meyer, Milton W. (1993) Japan: A Concise History (3rd ed).  
  
"Samurai." Accessed January 2, 2003.  
  
http://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2127.html  
  
The Samurai Archives. (Various articles). Accessed January 2,  
  
2003. http://www.samurai-archives.com  
  
Small, John. "The Art of Ninjutsu." Accessed January 2, 2003.  
  
http://www.japanfile.com/sport/martial_arts/Ninjutsu-1.shtml  
  
Souryi, Pierre Francois. The World Turned Upside Down: Medieval  
  
Japanese Society. Trans. by Kathe Roth. New York: Columbia  
  
University Press, 2001. 


	2. Prologue

TSURU NO HITOKOE: PROLOGUE  
  
DEDICATION: For my Real World friends, for letting me crash at their places during my research trips.  
  
WARNINGS: AU. Anachronistic dialogue and sporadic use of cultural honorifics. Violence, death, cussing, politics, and other things associated with war. Supernatural happenings. Cross-dressing and homosexual and heterosexual relationships (Daisuke/Ken is main coupling - see fic notes for complete listing).  
  
DISCLAIMER: Digimon Adventure, Digimon 02, and their characters and concepts are copyrighted Toei Animation, NEIC, Bandai, and Fox Kids. All other words, plots, characters, and creations are copyrighted Katya Konkle ("Phi").  
  
The small curls of incense smoke that drifted through the air no longer bothered the small boy, as they had two months ago when he had first started joining the Watcher in the rituals. He couldn't quite ignore the deadened feeling in his feet, however, and tried to quietly beet his thighs with his small fists to stimulate circulation. At times like this, he despaired of ever becoming accustomed to sitting on his knees, like the adults did; he was a child used to running wild in the forest and fields with his heels kicking high into the air.  
  
Two cycles of the black moon past, he had been called from his family's care and placed with the village's Watcher as his apprentice. The boy had been nervous and reluctant to face this strange situation - what did it matter that the Watcher always pronounced Truths? What did it matter that the boy sometimes had odd dreams and day-visions? He would rather chase his playmates around the ancient trees and start a serious study in the Art. But, no matter how hard he pleaded with all who would listen, he fate was not to be changed.  
  
Now the boy found a (to him) bizarre fascination with the Watcher and the old man's own version of Art. (Although, if he were to be completely honest, he still snuck out at nights to practice with a jo and a pair of tonfa he borrowed from the village's storeroom.) He was a fast learner, and already the Watcher allowed him to aid in his casting for visions.  
  
The old man Watched with increasing frequency over the past fortnight, or so it seemed to the boy. He assumed that the Watcher was looking for something in particular, but each time his seiryou drifted out and back in the old body, he would only mumble incoherently and shake his head in despair. The Watcher had confided in the child that he had been having dreams of a great blinding suffering, a poison that would be unleashed upon the people. He Watched, the old man had said, for both a cause of and a cure for this desolate future.  
  
The boy believed, as he had woken several times with a feeling of fear and lingering pain.  
  
Now, as he waited for the Watcher to return, he felt the familiar rising of hair on his arms that signaled the Watcher would soon awaken. The boy froze with anticipation as he saw the thin misty creature descend from the air above the Watcher's still body. The edges of the seiryou were blurred, and if he tried to stare straight at it, the mist would fade into random patches, but the Watcher assured him that it was only his lack of experience and training that caused such. The boy allowed his young chest to puff out slightly with pride; no one else in the village could see what he saw. In this, in this alone, he was truly special. Thus yes, Watching had it's own allure, but oh! If only he could find some way to do everything he wished!  
  
The Watcher's eyes were cloudy with a fading vision as the old man swum back into the living world. His lips formed words long before the sounds came out. The boy leaned in closer to hear: the Watcher of late had had trouble remembering all of the Truths he gleamed from his visions. ". chil. en. oken seal. boy with. eyes. temple. must take him!"  
  
The Watcher's voice had regained its quiet strength by the end of the broken recitation. The boy was, as usual, quickly on hand to give his master a cup of the restorative cool tea brewed for just such an occasion. The Watcher's eyes alighted on the child and crinkled in a tired smile. "Ryo. Thank you."  
  
The boy Ryo could hardly contain his curiosity. "Master, what have you seen? What boy?"  
  
His reply was a long time in coming - so much so, in fact, that Ryo half feared that the Watcher had slipped into another vision, though he had seen no seiryou depart. "A great emptiness. Suffering. Two children - no, later men. A broken seal. broken with blood?" The Watcher paused again and pinched his mouth tightly as if in great pain. "The two boys have been chosen. One, with fire in his hands, to find the poison. The other, with storm eyes, to bind it again. All shall be lost otherwise!"  
  
"Master.?"  
  
"Quickly, child, gather the Council. I must speak with them." The Watcher's normally rheumy eyes held a spark that the boy had never seen before. To his shame, his legs wobbled slightly as he stood and ran out of the hut, but the Watcher made no comment.  
  
Finding all five of the other Council members - Head, Healer, Master, and Elders - was easier than Ryo had expected, as the sun had dipped low in the sky while he had attended the Watcher. Begging their leave, he relayed his orders and followed them back to the Watcher's hut. He reluctantly stayed on the other side of the threshold, inwardly dying to know what the Watcher planned to do with his vision. Just as he decided to sneak around the outside wall and crouch below the only window, he heard the Watcher call his name. "Ryo, come inside. Sit over there." A gnarled hand pointed to a shadowed corner where he see and hear all. He tried to ignore the questioning and unwelcoming glances the other Council members directed at him.  
  
"Stop, all of you," the Watcher commanded in a strong voice, the one he must have had when he was still young and strong. "Ryo is my successor. What we have gathered here to discuss concerns the future of this village, and so concerns him as well."  
  
Murmurs of assent followed this admonishment and the glances ceased. "Watcher, what would you have of us?" asked the Village Head, as was his habit to always speak first.  
  
"It must be important to bring us so hastily," added the younger of the Elders.  
  
The Watcher nodded and lifted his head to stare into the air above all their heads. "That which I have sought I have finally found. A great wickedness from our earliest times has been unbound, and though we could not stop it at the first, the gods have given us another chance to seal the poison once again." The Watcher blinked and brought his gaze down to his fellows. "I have seen two young men. They are but barely from the womb now, but in many years they will be ready to fight. One will carry his own fire in his hands. The other will use the Art to such a degree we have barely known. We must take this young one now."  
  
The Head frowned. "Only one? Wouldn't it be best to take them both, to train them both?"  
  
"I have seen only one boy in our care. The gods must wish this other boy to travel a different path."  
  
A long silence stretched between the men in the small hut as they each digested the Watcher's words. Ryo fidgeted in his darkened seat. Surely they must realize the importance of this vision! Surely they will not ignore it!  
  
The Head spoke slowly, trading glances with his companions to assure agreement. "You have never before spoken an unTruth. Therefore we must believe that what you have seen is also not an unTruth." He stroked his chin and looked the Watcher directly in the eyes, a privilege that only the Head, as master of all the village, was awarded. "Where shall we find this boy?"  
  
Closing his eyes, the Watcher murmured, "The first temple, in which the foreign man sits. that's all I have seen."  
  
The Master bowed from the chest before rising. "I'll send my best men after him. We'll return in no more than ten days."  
  
Eight days later the child arrived at the village. The Watcher touched the pad of his forefinger to the sleeping boy's forehead and asked quietly, "Now, child, what have your parents called you? Ah, that is such a small name for one with such a great destiny." He paused, running his fingers through the short downy hair atop the boy's head. The Watcher gently smiled down as the child opened his eyes and yawned. The boy did not utter a single sound, but looked straight into the ancient eyes above him. "I now name you Ken, in honor of the wisdom you shall carry."  
  
The boy-child named Ken smiled and closed his eyes once more.  
  
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CHAPTER NOTES:  
  
Jo - a wooden staff approximately 1.5 meters long (think shorter version of the bo staff).  
  
Tonfa - a nightstick-like apparatus with a perpendicular handle so that the stick aligns parallel with the forearm.  
  
Seiryou - an out-of-body spirit whose body is still alive. 


End file.
